Threat of Exposure. Lynette Eason

Swallowing hard, Gisella wilted against the side of the pool. “Really?”

      “Yeah. That’s not safe. You need to be more aware.”

      Her pride stung. He was right. When she swam, she tuned everything out. At home, she had her security system. Here, it was just her and Brock against the town of Boot Hill. At least that was what it felt like.

      Gisella hauled herself out of the pool. Brock followed her. He tossed her a towel and she buried her face in it, buying time. But there was only one thing she could say. “You’re right.”

      Her soft answer wiped out his anger. “Oh. Okay then. Good.” Clearing his throat, he admitted with a rueful smile, “I have to admit, you have great reflexes and reaction skills.”

      Gisella gave a small laugh and shook her head. “At home, I swim all the time. I don’t think about work or the danger or…” She pulled in a breath. “I was wrong. I don’t have that option here. I should have told you what I was doing.” She changed the subject. “What made you come looking for me?”

      “I heard someone at my door. I thought it might be you.”

      She frowned. “Someone with the wrong room?”

      He shrugged. “Maybe. Thinking it was you, I called out that I was coming. By the time I looked out the window, whoever was there was gone. I went back inside and called your room. When you didn’t answer, I got a little concerned.”

      “So you checked the pool?”

      “It seemed logical. You said you liked to swim off stress and the hotel has a pool.”

      Gisella felt her insides warm. He was worried about her. Part of her appreciated it. The other was embarrassed that he’d called her out on her carelessness. But she considered herself a big girl. She could handle it. “You need to get your gun dried out.”

      He quirked a smile as he looked down at his sopping clothes. “Along with everything else.”

      Standing, she wrapped the towel around her. “Let me change into dry clothes. Once I get back to my room, I promise to stay there, all right?”

      He smiled. “Sure.”

      She gave him a head-to-toe glance. “You’re going to freeze on the walk back.”

      Brock shrugged. “I’ll live.”

      A few minutes later she’d changed back into her clothes, pulled her hair up and wrapped the towel around it. On the trek back to her room, she noticed the stillness that hung heavy in the dark air.

      She shivered. Not just from the cold, but from the feeling that eyes watched her progress. Again.

      Brock walked silently beside her, tension emanating from him along with the occasional shiver. He hunched his shoulders and picked up the pace.

      “You feel it here, too, don’t you?” she asked.

      “It’s too quiet,” he agreed in almost a whisper. “Crickets should be chirping. There should be some kind of night sounds.”

      “But there’s not. It’s totally creepy.” She paused in front of her door. “Thanks.”

      “For?” He lifted a brow in amusement.

      She huffed. “You know what for.”

      Brock smiled and gave a small bow—followed by a racking shudder. “My pleasure.”

      Without thinking, she reached up and touched his mouth with a forefinger. “Your lips are blue.”

      His eyes narrowed. “I can think of a great way to warm them.”

      Gisella breathed a laugh. “I bet you can. Good night, Brock.”

      Within seconds, she let herself into her room. “Whew.” She liked him. A lot.

      But she really didn’t need to flirt with him. Not when he had doubts about her.

      Powering down the computer she hadn’t touched, she felt anger begin to burn. Anger with herself.

      She’d been careless, thoughtless.

      Even though there’d been no direct threats made against her or Brock, she’d ignored her instincts and pushed aside her internal warnings. She could have put herself in danger.

      Vowing not to make that mistake again, she walked to the window and gently pushed aside the curtain to look out.

      Brock’s car sat four doors down, right where he’d left it.

      Nothing moved outside that she could see.

      So what was her anxiety all about?

      After checking the safety on her weapon, she slid it under her pillow. Exhaustion pounded on her and without bothering to dry her hair, she stretched out on the bed. More prayers drifted heavenward as she thought about her fellow Rangers back in San Antonio working the case from their end.

      So much heartache had occurred because of the Lions—and yet the case had brought a lot of good people together, too, such as Ben and Corinna.

      She flipped over and closed her eyes.

      Would this case bring her and Brock together? Or in the end push them far apart?

      Only time would tell.

      The next thing she knew, she jerked awake, heart pounding. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed as she often did at home. Never a good sleeper, if she got sleepy on the couch, that’s where she stayed.

      Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat there and listened. What had awakened her?

      The sound of a car door slamming? Not so unusual. She was at a hotel. But no, that wasn’t it.

      Another sound. A loud whoosh.

      Outside her door? No, but close.

      Shrugging off the fog of sleep, she moved toward the window.

      Pushing the curtain aside, she gasped at the flames spurting from Brock’s vehicle.